


Journey Home

by PatchworkIdeas



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkIdeas/pseuds/PatchworkIdeas
Summary: Bilbo makes his way back home.Luckily, he doesn’t have to do it alone.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Bofur, Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Journey Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, my dear! <3  
> May all your dreams come true and all bad thing be behind you.

When the time came, Bofur insisted someone needed to accompany Bilbo home - if only to help him carry his well earned spoils. There was not a lot a miner like him could help with in the mountain yet, as unstable as the mines were likely to be, but everyone knew it was more an excuse than a reason. Their friendship was a close one, and neither was quite ready to see the other walk out of their life.

The journey home was much quieter, the visit in Mirkwood much more pleasant and the Rivendell one shorter, for Bilbo missed his home quite fiercely, as much as the thought of losing Bofur’s pleasant company, losing long talks and jokes and laughter, hurt his heart.

Gandalf left them at the Shires border.  
Bofur accompanied Bilbo to his door - or to what was an auction in front of it.

Bofur was a pleasant fellow, Bilbo had never known him to be anything else, but he still instilled fear in the vultures circling Bilbo's home and refused to rest until even the last tidbit has been returned and Bilbo's cozy home restored to exactly the same shape it had been before he left.

This was almost the case some weeks after his return, but only almost, for Bofur insisted that the year without maintenance had left its marks and he could not in good conscience leave their hero, and dear friend, before everything was in tip-top shape again.

Bilbo fretted about seeing his friend work, a guest in his house, and made sure to cook and bake all the things he had found Bofur to love best. And if it got the neighbors twittering when he brought food outside while Bofur repaired his roof or whatever else he had found unsatisfactory this time, then really, wasn't that what the neighbors did all the time anyway?

And if that twittering only got louder when Bofur thoughtfully brought him flowers, then really, what business of theirs was his life.

Months passed, and one day even Bofur could not find a single thing that needed repairing anymore. Bilbo mentioned that surely, winter was too close to risk it, and spring the only sensible time for a journey as big as the one ahead and behind.  
But of course, maybe that was just his Hobbit sensibilities, and he would not keep him if Bofur’s own heart yearned for home, for Erebor.

But Bofur agreed, as much as he missed his family and a mountain around him, late summer was much too late and would Bilbo terribly mind hosting him just that bit longer. And perhaps, who knew, he might find faults in winter that needed tending to, anything he might have overlooked.

Really, how could he have possibly left just yet.

And so it came that they spent pleasant days together, sometimes out and about, Bofur slowly charming their more open minded neighbors with a joke and a smile and more stories than anyone could count. Or they stayed in, both working their craft with Bilbo occasionally verifying details of their journey or asking which phrase Bofur found preferable, all while lovely carvings found their place all over his home.  
Autumn came and passed, and the winter was spent warm and comfortable, with cheer that felt a bit more desperate each day. 

The letter came just a few days before spring, announcing Fili's and Kili's visit in the coming weeks, the two eager to introduce their mother to their lucky number. Apparently, they had traveled back to the Blue Mountains just before Winter, to ready their people for the return to Erebor, and could not bear to let the opportunity to meet him again pass them by. They would ride ahead of the caravan, stay with him for a few days if he would have them, before rejoining their people when they passed. 

Bofur’s bags hadn't been packed yet, but what better, safer passage home would he ever find?  
Evenings spent alone, his own lovely home cold and quiet and full of comfort but without company loomed in Bilbo's future. He found it was not a thought he enjoyed. 

Fili and Kili had grown well into their new positions, and it became all too clear that yes, it had been well over a year already when he had last seen them. Their reunion was joyful and merry, though not without surprises. It had been Bofur who had noticed their marriage beads, and the brothers firmly declared that this was what they had asked for their boon, their own reward for reclaiming Erebor. Maybe it wasn't traditional or a choice easily accepted, but who could speak against them after all they had done for their people?  
They were proud, head held high, hands intertwined between them.  
Bilbo wasn't sure whether to be glad at their relief when he congratulated them or insulted they had even considered he would react any different. The two had always been close and affectionate with each other, and Bilbo was silently smug that his wondering if their close bond only stemmed from brotherhood had been correct after all. 

That evening the princes told them about Erebor, about how much had changed, once cold and lonely corridors now bursting with warmth and joy and an air of hope their people had missed for so long.  
Erebor was healing well, and the surrounding area grew with it, once fragile alliances steadily getting stronger with every day that Thorin proofed the sickness behind him; was the king they had all known he could be.  
They told of feasts, and festivals, of mines opened and forges once again running day and night.  
They told him he was missed, fiercely, and not a party went by without a toast in his honor. 

Bilbo didn't know when exactly his heart started longing, started to look at familiar streets and faces and furniture as old as himself and seeing a world that should have been his home, but suddenly only felt like a place.  
He imagined living here, alone, the rest of his life. Mad Baggins of the Shire, the one who never belonged.

He thought of long conversations, warm hands, flowers carefully picked in a language Bilbo had never mentioned but that Bofur had still somehow learned. He thought of journeys, of homes, of laughter and joy. 

He thought of that feeling, that very first day, his heart a sparrow in his chest. 

He made his choice quite the same way. 

And while he basked in Fili's and Kili's excitement as they swept him of his feet, overjoyed at his coming back with them, making his own home with them in Erebor, it was still that warm smile, the gentle hands, and Bofur’s welcoming voice that assured him that home was not a place, but a person.

And he was coming home.


End file.
